


Do not stand at my grave and weep

by whisperingink



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, Gen, all of the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingink/pseuds/whisperingink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-movie, Loki drifts through the stars before landing, stranded in a foreign land, where his attempts to defend himself with magic backfire, leaving him as a child with no memories of his adult years. He knows nothing of the atrocities he committed, and only desires to return home, unaware of the fact that his brother has spent every moment since his 'death' grieving over his loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do not stand at my grave and weep

Loki wakes up in a strange place, in another realm, he supposes, curled up in a ball amongst a jumble of clothes. With a wave of panic, he realizes that he's naked, swimming in the soft fabric on the ground, and feels further sickened by the fact that he cannot remember anything. He reaches up to feel his hair, still the same length, so not too much time can have passed, and checks for any bruises, cuts, or broken bones that he can magic back to health. But again, there's nothing. Loki is fine. Well, he recognizes that being alone in a strange land is not fine, but as his mind clears he begins to feel the strength of his magic building back up.

He rises from the ground, blinking wide, bleary green eyes as he surveys the land before him. The unsteady feeling grows as he notices that the ground looks absolutely flattened, as if a great force pressed all things uneven back into the earth. The strange clothes threaten to fall off at any second, and Loki will not tolerate being nude in a land not Asgard. Focusing his magic, he feels the clothing shrink around his body, fitting just like his clothes do at home. Upon closer look, the clothing is of an Asgardian fashion, which only raises his suspicions further. 

_What happened to me?_

He can only ask that question over and over as he tries to piece together the situation before him. After several minutes of careful calculations and deliberations, he decides that the best solution is to return home, to Father, Mother, and Thor, for they will most certainly know what to do. Once again, Loki shuts his eyes and focuses his mind, imagining Asgard, the palace, the smell of his library, and the smile of his brother. He has never traveled between the realms before, but, for some odd reason, his power feels so much...stronger. It feels as though he's been honing his magic for years now.

There's a sharp yanking sensation from within his stomach, and suddenly he's zooming through space. The stars pass him in a blur, and the sensation is most exhilarating. Loki makes a mental note to bring Thor with him next time, for he knows that his brother would love to fly with him. A small smile cracks his otherwise serene face as he imagines his big brother laughing, giddy as can be with an arm looped around Loki's waist, the two of them traversing the realms together.

Maybe they'll even fight some monsters, if Father lets them.

-

Thor sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. He can only be at peace in his room now, it would seem, for the rest of the Asgardians expect their future king to act totally unaffected by the loss of his brother. He has even heard people claiming that Loki couldn't have meant much, that Thor should've been disgusted by the news of his brother's true heritage. That does not matter to him in the slightest, what matters is that the weight in his stomach grows more painful every hour Loki is not at his side. It has been weeks since he released that cold, pale hand for the stars to steal away. He's barely spoken to anyone since.

Sif visited him, a few days after, bearing no meaningless presents, just her fair, solemn face. She sat next to him, placed her war-roughened hand on his shoulder, and even allowed him to bury his face in her long, dark hair. His lady friend did not offer false reassurances, merely a quiet, "I am sorry for your loss." But, even dear Sif could not assuage his pain. All he can do is mourn alone, wishing, hoping that something will yank him out of this nightmare and return him to a life with Loki in it. 

There's a sharp popping noise outside, startling him from thinking about how he and his brother used to steal food from the kitchen, the way Loki would smile as he handed his brother another one of the cook's famous tarts. Normally he would react to the sound in some way, but he cannot find it within him to summon his precious hammer. The handle turn, doors swinging open, but what Thor sees takes his breath away.

It is Loki.

But not as he knew him a few weeks ago.

The Loki of his childhood stands in his doorway, wearing a smaller version of his everyday clothes, large green eyes staring at him in surprise. His dark hair is not pushed back, but flops into his face, teasing the tops of his shoulders. Thor feels a fresh pain entering his chest and stares at the sight before him.  _I have gone mad,_ he thinks as Loki takes tentative steps towards him,  _This is a dream. This is a hallucination. I am mad now, mad from the grief._

"Thor?" Loki asks, and, oh, it is the same voice he knew as a child, soft and well-mannered, the polar opposite of his brash loudness. His brother looks confused, brow bunching up as he scrutinizes him, "It is you...I can tell...my dear brother. But, you look so old now, Thor." A wide smile crosses his face and the demeanor changes entirely as he bounds towards the older man, causing Thor to choke back a noise of pain as he sees the first genuine smile from his little brother in ages. 

"Have you been learning magicks? Is that why you look this way, have you now practiced illusions to show greatness? It's magnificent!" In all of the nine realms, Thor never expected to get a chance to see his little brother, illusion though he may be, grinning broadly and touching his cheek with a small, child-soft hand. There's a wetness in his eyes that he can no longer control, and soon tears spill down his face. Loki looks even more puzzled now, and a little scared by Thor's crying. 

"Brother?" Loki asks, an expression of utmost concern on his face, and the tears come faster now as Thor clasps Loki's tiny hands in his enormous ones, "Why do you weep? it is most unbecoming for the future king to shed so many tears." Thor feels his knees going weak, and suddenly he's sliding off the bed onto his knees, so he's at eye-level with Loki. His eyes, he realizes, have not changed one bit in all the centuries they've been together. A wide, deep-green, but the ones he looks into have not been hardened by hatred.

"Loki," he whispers, speaking the name for the first time in ages. "Loki..." comes out as a choked cry, all the things he wishes to say to him strangled by his sadness. And his brother squeezes his hand, offering a much smaller smile.

"What have you to cry for?"

And at the words, Thor cannot stop himself from wrapping his little brother into a bone-crushing hug, burying his face into a slender shoulder to release his tears. He's shaking now, full body sobs, for he feels both terrified by his own madness and so grateful to be able to hold his brother like this again, "I grieved for you, I mourned for you, my brother, my wonderful brother...Loki." His brother looks terrified by Thor's tears, and he realizes that he has never let him see a single tear drip from the bridge of his nose before. 

"...How long was I gone?" Loki asks, his voice small and scared. Thor shakes his head, squeezing tighter, "Brother, where did I go? Why do you look like this, where is Father, Mother, what has happened here? To me?" 

He cannot answer Loki. He cannot ruin this perfect dream of being able to show his brother how much he cares, of how valuable he is, no matter what his true lineage may be.

"It matters not, Loki," he says, smiling for the first time since Midgard, "For you are here now, with me, my brother, my strong, talented, wonderful brother, who I valuable more than all the nine realms combined." He sees now that Loki sheds tears as well, his lower lip wobbling at the words and sight of his older brother sobbing. "This dream...this dream is everything I've wished for," Thor says, voice cracking from the dryness of his throat, "How could I ever lose you?" 

Loki finally hugs him back, shaking into Thor's embrace. His knees may hurt against the cold hardness of the floor, and he requires a bath and change of clothes and nourishment, but Thor cares about none of that, for his brother is back and he will not wake up from this dream, this mad hallucination, for as long as possible.

"Stay, Loki," Thor pleads, and Loki nods fervently, looking both scared and confused, limbs still trembling as Thor begs him. 

"Do not worry," Loki whispers, in that childish, soft voice, "I would never leave you." 

Thor stares at him, taking in every soft feature, for Loki truly lacks all of the hardness of age and anger. He knows nothing of what he did. He is truly the child. The god of thunder can only bless this bit of madness, for the thought of telling Loki of the crimes his older self did...and Thor will not think of that. He will enjoy the dream for, when he wakes up to face reality, he will at least have this memory to cling to. 

"I know," he responds, trying to rise to his feet without falling to the ground once more.

"I know you would never, brother of mine." 


End file.
